


Nocturnal Philosophy

by peachplume



Category: Gintama
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Gen, Japanese Culture, Late Night Conversations, New Year's Eve, New Years, One Shot, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachplume/pseuds/peachplume
Summary: Kamui and Takasugi have a surprisingly personal conversation as the new year arrives.





	Nocturnal Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Gintama Secret Santa 2017 (late I know...) for queen-of-space-pirates on Tumblr. It's my first fic for Gintama actually so I hope I didn't do them dirty lmao.

Earth's winter sky was much more clear than the one in Rakuyou, where smog and rain choked out any source of natural light six days out of seven. Kamui wrapped his hands around his heated tea cup, his eyes flickering to the twinkling sky. He could see a faint ribbon of multicolored lights glowing just above his window; he recalled his mother had told him they were the northern lights by humans. Yato tradition had it, she had said, that the lights were from celestial dragonfire that would eventually consume the world.

Kamui didn’t know why he was remembering this now. Even as a child he had no use for fairy tales, unlike that weak sister of his; he was too busy fighting off those who tried to mock his family, his pathetic father, his weakened mother, too busy trying to become strong so his mother could live again. 

(A part of Kamui once thought that had he been a more attentive son, he might have been able to help his mother sooner. But he killed that sentiment quickly and buried it under blood and violence and lies)

In the background, the shoji slid open. Kamui raised an eyebrow and began trying to finish the rest of his tea before whoever it was discovered he had made his drink with the remains of the Kiheitai’s (now stolen) tea collection. 

“Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?”

So, it was that one-eyed samurai ally of his. He vaguely wondered what Takasugi was doing here - didn’t Abuto mention they were out visiting a nearby temple for New Year’s or something? 

Kamui ignored his burning throat, turned around and smiled. “Ah, it’s you. I thought you were with your subordinates or something.”

“I didn’t want to go,” Takasugi said as he strode across the room. With an overly grand flourishing of his kimono, he sat down on the window ledge, opposite of Kamui. “Besides, I hate crowds.”

Silence. Kamui took another sip of his grainy tea as he observed the snow yards of their base. In the distance, he could see pinpricks of lights, probably from the temple and its visitors. 

“I thought you would,” he said finally. “This day's about ushering out the evil and welcoming the good, yes? Isn’t it your goal to cleanse this so-called rotten world?”

Takasugi frowned. “That has nothing to do with omisoka, you fool.”

Kamui ignored his comment. “Human traditions are confusing,” he complained. “Are they ever straightforward?”

Takasugi said nothing. Somewhere, a bell began to ring.

“One hundred and eight.”

Kamui looked up from his tea cup. 

“Oh?”

“The bell rings one hundred and eight times,” Takasugi clarified over the peals. “They say there are a hundred and eight sins in Buddhism; each ring is supposed to drive away one of the sins.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Once.” Takasugi looked away. His good eye was glazed over, like how his mother’s once had when she talked about her planet. “A hundred and eight is not enough anymore.”

_Both me and that planet have completely wilted already._

The words resonated and stabbed at him, worse than any other injury he had ever received.

“This world has grown too rotten,” he guessed. “The only way to cleanse it now is to destroy and rebuild.”

Takasugi raised an eyebrow. “More or less,” he said with grudging surprise. 

“I look forward to seeing how you carry that out,” Kamui said. He thought back to the Kiheitai’s previous attempts at achieving their goal, and added, “Assuming that idiot samurai doesn't defeat you first.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Takasugi glowered at him. 

“It wouldn't be a bad way to go,” Kamui continued on. The small part of his mind that still had common sense screamed at him to stop. He mentally punched it. “You could destroy the world in the process. That’s how we Yato believe the world will end anyways; a great battle will destroy the world.”

“Are you implying I’m a harbinger of the apocalypse?” Takasugi asked, a bit of humor laced in his voice. 

Kamui shrugged and gulped down the rest of his tea. “Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I get a decent fight.”

The bells stop ringing, and stillness drifted over the night. Takasugi exhaled before slipping off the window sill. 

“It’s a new year,” he announced. “Happy new year, I suppose.”

“I hope we’ll get around to that Hell tour like you promised,” Kamui replied. Then he smiled and clapped Takasugi on the shoulder. “So...try not to die before I’ve fought you and Gintoki. It’s bad to go to the grave with a debt, I’m told.” 

“Rest assured,” Takasugi drawled, knocking off his hand. “I’ll pay it in full.”

“You better.” Kamui hummed. Smiling to himself, he gripped his cup and strode out of the room. The winter air made his throat dry again, and he wanted more tea.


End file.
